


Trickshot!

by a_nonny_moose



Series: Egotober 2017 [15]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: "Hey, Bim, d'you want to cause some chaos?"





	Trickshot!

"Wilford, nothing ever good begins with the words, ‘bitch, watch this.’”

“Okay, yeah, right, sure, but _watch this_.” Wilford patted Bim on the shoulder, thrusting an apple into his hand.   


“What do you expect me to do with this, exactly?” Bim laughed a little, looking at the fruit.   


“Just... hold it.”  


“Am I allowed to eat it?” Bim grinned, tossing the apple in the air. 

_Shing._

“B-B-B-B-BULLSEYE!” Wilford rumbled, flipping his knife triumphantly, all gleaming teeth and wiggling eyebrows.   


“Wilford!” Bim scolded, flinching away. The apple sagged against the blade holding it to the backdrop, dripping juice, and Bim pulled it out. “You put a hole in the set!”  


_Shing_.

“Two points!”  


Bim sighed, picking up both halves of the apple. “We have a _show_  to do,” he reminded Wilford, who was strutting back and forth on stage, twirling knives between his fingers. “A _schedule_  to stick to.”

“Schedule, schmedule.” Wilford flipped his knife straight up in the air, the blade twirling once, twice, three times before landing point-down in his palm.   


“Wilford!”  


“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Wilford pulled the tip of the knife out of his hand, examining the blood welling up, pink and translucent. He chuckled, watching Bim’s stricken face. 

“Be more careful,” Bim muttered, taking Wilford’s hand in his own, examining the wound. “Idiot.”  


“Hey,” Wilford huffed into his mustache, hiding a grin. “I have the best trickshots, Trimmer.” he jabbed the knife in his uninjured hand towards Bim, playful. “Don’t you forget it.”  


“Yeah, yeah.” Bim ran his finger over the edge of Wilford’s hand, lost in thought for a moment. They all had the same body to start out with, of course. Wilford was older then he was, older then most of them. His palm was wide, calloused by work and years of flipping guns between his fingers. Bim’s hands, by comparison, were small and soft, lean where Wilford’s were muscled. These hands had seen stories, were warm with the movement of twirling knives.   


Bim dropped his hands, the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to hold on so long. “S-sorry,” he started to stutter. 

Wilford looked up at him, a sudden light in his eye. “Hey. Bim,” he said, twinkling, hurt hand forgotten. “D’you want to cause some chaos?”

Bim paused for a beat, then grinned. “Is that even a question?”

* * *

Bim knocked on Dark’s door, beaming, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Wilford, just tell them we don’t want any cookies--” Dark stopped, nearly nose to nose with Bim. “Trimmer,” he said smoothly, stepping back, raising an eyebrow. “To what do I owe the... pleasure?”  


Bim grinned, a purple spray of fireworks in the corners of his vision. “May I come in, Dark?” 

Dark’s name was almost a hum on his lips, and Dark took a swift step back, ushering Bim into the room. 

As soon as Bim was inside, he took Dark’s hand, leaving the door open as they swept further into the office. “I just wanted to see you,” Bim confessed, lowering his eyes gently. “I-- I brought some food,” he offered, holding up a pair of fruit.

Dark’s breath caught slightly in his throat, a tiny hitch, pulsing though the fog in his head. There was a ringing in his ears that had nothing to do with his aura, nosing curiously at Bim. Dark waved it away, taking Bim’s hand in two of his own. “That’s very kind of you, Trim-- Bim.”

Bim let Dark’s hands cover his, cold as if he’d been plunged wrist-deep in ice water. Dark was older then any of them, even Wilford, and yet his hands were smooth. Stronger than Bim’s, clasped around him, a grip like steel. Long-fingered, at least by comparison, and hallmarked by the blush of a corpse. 

“Here.” Bim thrust the two apples into Dark’s hands, suddenly bashful, pretending he couldn’t see the innuendo nor the blush creeping up Dark’s face. “You should... eat.”  


Dark frowned, furrowing his brow, but took the gift all the same. “Very thoughtful,” he murmured, and Bim let a purple, glowing blush light his cheeks. 

Unnoticed by Dark, Wilford crept into the room, a maniac grin spread from ear to ear. 

“You should really take care of yourself more,” Bim was scolding, when Wilford threw the first knife.  


Wilford’s aim left something to be desired, despite the time he’d spent throwing blades at various objects and people. It was only now that Bim saw that the hit he’d gotten on the apple before had been a lucky one. 

Dark looked down at the knife in his shoulder, Bim’s aura draining away in panic and a terrified kind of laughter. 

“WILFORD?!”  



End file.
